As the two passed out, the servant in the yellow striped skirt of a drab, the other with the shuffling gait of a camp straggler, they attracted little attention. When they entered the camp of the Lamanites they elicited less, for the men slept with the abandonment of exhaustion. "A fellow and his girl out late," was all they thought, if they saw them at all.
As the couple picked their way among the tired soldiers one would occasionally open his eyes, see who it was, only grunt and turn over wearily. So without mishap they reached the tent of Amalickiah. Fortune was with them, for his servants were sleeping heavily. Although delay was fraught with danger, Teancum reconnoitered a moment to ascertain just where Amalickiah lay. He was asleep on a camp couch with his arms by his side. A streak of moonlight straggled in and illumined his pale face.
For a moment Teancum poised his javelin in the air. Then he struck. So powerful was the arm that drove the weapon that it went through the sleeper's body, speared the heart, and he died without a groan.
Teancum joined his cowering companion at the entrance, and the two picked their way out of the hostile camp.
Not until morning did the Lamanite hordes raise a wail for their dead king. They had just found his corpse, stark and cold, stuck through with a javelin.
BAS-RELIEF OF ANCIENT WARRIOR.
